Zsofia and I exchanged startled glances. Security Otters? Curfews? What was going on here! It would certainly explain the darness and quietness of the Holt but raised far more questions. However, even I could see that stopping to ask this fellow what was going on was probably a bad idea and we would be better off attempting to talk our way out of it.

I was desperately trying to come up with a plausible excuse that didn’t involve starting a sentence with, “hi, we are from the past…” or “So, when is this and who are you?” I’ll be honest, I was failing. Luckily Zsofia was somewhat quicker on the uptake. She was suddenly a whole lot closer than I expected and lent her head against mine, she started to explain that we were on an assignation. I don’t…